


Growing Affections

by later_than_the_rabbit



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Love at First Sight, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pining, Pining Sherlock, Reader-Insert, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sister!Reader, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr request, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:41:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11719278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/later_than_the_rabbit/pseuds/later_than_the_rabbit
Summary: Sherlock has been pining for his best friend’s sister for weeks and is struggling to keep his feelings hidden





	Growing Affections

**Author's Note:**

> Request: Could you do a Sherlock x Reader, where the reader is John's sister and Sherlock fancies the reader but he doesn't want to get on the wrong side of John, until one day John is out and the reader says something and Sherlock grabs her and kisses her and John walks in? (happy ending please)

After suffering through the tirade of childhood together, you and John had formed as close a bond with each other as any other pair of siblings would have created, even more so after he had taken upon the role of the protective older brother once your parent’s marriage began to die. He went through your school work with you and helped you navigate through high school drama whilst the stability of your family crumbled around you as Harry succumbed to the drink and your mother fell into depression. He had always been there for you through your childhood so when he came home from Afghanistan, in pain, depressed and unwilling to ask for help, you were there to lend a hand when he needed it.  
Your bond only grew stronger as a result and when John had met Sherlock at the front of 221B, you, of course, had tagged along. Sherlock had been surprised when he saw you trailing next to John, your hair in a messy bun on top of your head, sky blue scarf around your neck, shielding it and your mouth from the bitter wind, your nose red from the cold (you had never liked the cold, even after living in England all your life), your red jacket contrasting against your black and white striped-stockinged legs and black converse-clad feet, a look that would have probably been ghastly on any other person except you. You were short, shorter than John even, the top of your head barely reaching Sherlock’s collarbone when you stood next to him. If he were to describe you at that moment, he would have chosen anything other than intimidating, the period immediately after that however, was a different story.

When John was looking around 221B with Mrs. Hudson, you had pulled Sherlock down to your height by the lapels of his jacket, swearing to him in a hushed and truly terrifying voice that if he ever did anything to John, anything at all, you would personally drag his arse to Hell and lay him at the feet of Satan yourself. You had then let go of him, smoothed out his jacket on his chest and moved away to talk cheerfully to Mrs. Hudson about renting out the flat below for yourself, wanting to move closer to the centre of the city, to which she happily agreed to. Sherlock stood dumbfounded on the spot you had threatened him on. You were truly intimidating, and he was completely and utterly captivated by you.

Your life after the whole Study in Pink case had moved fairly quickly after that, Sherlock’s affections only growing with each passing day as you helped Mrs. Hudson keep 221B to a relatively clean state, though you didn’t dust as you knew Sherlock preferred it that way, and worked at the popular bookstore a few streets down. You even helped solve some cases now and then, chasing criminals through the night as if it were a natural occurrence, your distinctive red coat trailing behind you in a similar fashion to Sherlock’s belstaff. You were even more alluring, Sherlock felt, when you were simply eating take-away with John and himself perched in your own teal Middlebury armchair with deep purple accents by the fire. You had loved the chair as soon as you saw it in 221B and claimed it for your own, absolutely jumping with joy as Sherlock and John moved their chairs aside for you to take the middle place between them (it didn’t matter to you that this chair would become the client chair, as long as it was yours at the end of the day). Sherlock thought you were adorable at that moment. It dwarfed you but you didn’t care, frequently curling up in the comfy chair with your feet tucked under your thighs and a thick quilt over your lap to starve off the chill only you ever felt. Sherlock loved seeing you like that, especially when you had a worn book in one hand a tea in the other, your reading glasses on your face, framing your iridescent eyes perfectly.

He had realised the very extent of his feelings on the day at the Pool, when Moriarty had threatened to burn the heart out of him before having his sniper’s aim their sights on the three of you. Sherlock’s heart stopped when he saw the little red lights hovering on your forehead and heart, the promise of death seeming so secure. He couldn’t breath then. He couldn’t care about his own life or even John’s when he saw that yours was in danger because of him. It was here he realised that he loved you far deeper than he had thought.

He had stayed up for many nights after that day at the Pool, not only thinking about Moriarty but about you and his feelings towards you. He loved you more than anything, more than he could know, but he couldn’t possibly act upon his feelings when your brother was his best friend, could he? There was something a bit not good about that wasn’t there? He knew there probably was but he couldn’t stop thinking about you either. It didn’t help that his feelings towards you only grew larger and more invasive after that day.

He came to recognise what all your little smiles meant, from the one where you were just being polite to the person you were with, to the one where you were obviously screaming on the inside (somehow John got this look quite a lot) to the one where you were tired and just wanted to go back to sleep in the mornings. He remembered what flavoured teas you preferred and at what times of the day you drank them, even going out of his way to make them for you, to which you accepted with a ‘thank you’ said in that melodic voice of yours, every time thanking him sincerely, and not one of those times mocking him in anyway. You were perfect, and Sherlock was stuck, because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t dampen his feelings towards you, his best friend’s sister. His brain actually hurt from all the thinking he had been doing on the topic.

This had all lead up to today. John had a shift at St. Barts whilst you and Sherlock had the day off together. This had happened before, don’t be fooled, however Sherlock knew that today it was going to be especially challenging to keep his feelings to himself when you had emerged from your flat downstairs, obviously having just woken up to wish your brother a good day, still dressed in your long pyjama pants and plain cotton shirt, your hair knotted and eyes still bleary from sleep. You looked like a mess honestly, but Sherlock thought you were absolutely radiant that morning. When John had left, after you had given him a quick kiss on his cheek, you had turned to Sherlock and smiled your smile that meant you were happy and calm, wishing him a good morning before you moved off into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of black tea, milky black tea in the mornings with two heaped teaspoons of sugar if Sherlock remembered correctly, which he always did. You also made yourself some toast with an excessively large amount of marmite spread on top of the melted butter (he still couldn’t understand how you liked that dark brown, near black, overly salty paste but he loved that you did. The face you made when you took the first taste of it in the morning was one of his favourites). You came into the living room where Sherlock was sitting in his chair and sat in your own, spreading the large, thick blanket you kept nearby over your lap before bringing your plate to rest on top. You took your first bite and closed your eyes in bliss, unaware that Sherlock was looking on, his love clear in his eyes before he turned away when you opened yours.

You and Sherlock didn’t really talk much in the mornings, you usually being too tired to do so and him being unable to keep track of a conversation with you for more than a few minutes before he lost track of it whilst staring and memorising every aspect of you. This morning was no different, however it seemed as if you weren’t planning on talking much at all that day. After you had gone back down to shower, you reemerged in 221B, your latest book in your hands and a pair of earphones attached to your phone. You were dressed in your most comfy pair of jeans, the cuffs rolled up to show your ankles and the multiple holes gained from wear allowing skin to peek through. Your toes were painted in a vibrant shade of purple, which coincidentally matched the large purple shirt you wore, the cut of the collar allowing some of your collarbone to show. Your neck was exposed as you had your hair back up in a messy bun, some strands coming away to frame your face as delicately as your glasses did to your eyes, their tortoiseshell frames enhancing the golden flecks in your eyes. You wore no makeup, (there was no need for it anyway, you weren’t going anywhere) your freckles and blemishes being displayed without shame or embarrassment, your complexion slightly oily, the sun’s rays from the window being reflected as you prepared yourself for a day of sitting in your chair, reading your book with Sherlock thinking not to far away.

Sherlock noticed you were about to put your earbuds in before he remembered that you liked to have some music playing as you read. Not the stuff that was on the radio, you rarely listened to that anyway (another reason why Sherlock found you so amazing) but rather just as background noise so that it wasn’t dead quiet in the flat. Sherlock stood abruptly as you sat back in your seat, making you a herbal tea (jasmine tea with a spoon of honey for reading in the mornings) to which you gave another thank you after laughing a bit about how you were just about to go make it yourself (his heart fluttered as you smiled up at him, your laugh was the most beautiful sound to him), before he made his way to his violin. He noticed you noticing him do so and he saw you put your phone and earbuds aside, a faint blush dusting your cheeks as he tuned the instrument and began to play your favourite composition, Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. You smiled to yourself as you opened your book and heard the first few notes erupt from the instrument, unknown to you that your smile brightened Sherlock’s own as he watched on.

He loved to play his violin for you, even if you didn’t fully realise that he was indeed, playing it solely for you and not just because he was trying to think. As he played you began to sway slightly with the music, causing Sherlock to sigh at your beauty and stop in the middle of Spring, not even a quarter way through the piece. You turned to him, a perplexed yet amused look in your expression as you asked him what he was thinking about. ‘You’ popped into his mind immediately before he shook of the idea literally with a shake of his head. Instead, he muttered to you that he wasn’t thinking of anything at that moment. You laughed again, your head tilting back as Sherlock’s knees went weak. "You’re always thinking of something Sherlock." you said lightly, your eyes sparkling with the remaining joy you felt from seeing Sherlock fluster about. 

He again said that nothing was on his mind as he re-positioned the violin to continue from where he left off, however you couldn’t let it go; Sherlock never stopped halfway through a piece unless something was jarring his train of thought. You began to feel concerned as Sherlock tried, and failed to continue with the piece fluently with your eyes on him, not that he could see them as his own were shut tight in concentration.

You stood from your chair and made your way to him, placing your hand on the arm that was moving his bow, forcing him to stop for a minute and look at you. You heard him gasp as you made contact with his arm and his eyes flew open as he abruptly lowered his arms and the violin. He couldn’t admit his feelings to you, he thought, John would never forgive him. He placed his violin in its case, meticulously loosening the bow so that the bow stick wouldn’t warp before he tried to escape the room, however you prevented him by again placing your hands on his arms. 

"Sherlock?" He looked down at your face and saw the concern you held for him in that moment. "Are you alright?" You had always put others before yourself, you were just so kind. He couldn’t help but lean down and kiss you there in the living room. His hands came up to cup your face carefully as he continued, making sure to show every ounce of the love he felt for you in that one kiss.

You were startled at first. After all, this was Sherlock the high-functioning sociopath and he was pouring his heart out to you. He pulled back when you hadn’t reciprocated the kiss straight away, worry consumed his eyes and his began to stutter out an apology, an excuse, anything that would make everything go back to what it was when you pulled his face back down and kissed him back. This time Sherlock froze, not expecting you to return his feelings after he had shown you his. You moved your hands from his face to the back of his head, and played with the hair there, marvelling at the softness of the ebony curls as they wrapped around your fingers. Sherlock’s mind had caught up with the sensations as you had moved your hands and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to his body as his lips started to move along with yours. He knew that this was probably a bit, no, a lot not good but he couldn’t care less as he felt you return his affections. He felt warmth spread from his centre all the way out to his fingertips as the kiss deepened, not knowing that the same was happening to you.

When you two separated for air, your foreheads leaning against one another’s and your breath’s mingling, you gazed into each other’s eyes and saw the love you both felt for each other. You couldn’t help but to smile brightly, rubbing your nose against Sherlock’s in affection as he smiled wider than he had ever done so before. You pressed your lips against Sherlock’s once more, him returning the kiss immediately instead of freezing when you both heard a cough come from the front door of the apartment. You both turned towards the door, perfectly in sync and brandishing matching kiss-swollen lips and reddened cheeks as you saw John leaning against the door frame. Sherlock worried that John was going to disapprove of the turn his friendship with you had taken whereas you worried he was going to become overprotective of you as he usually did. He was looking at you two with a neutral expression until the corner of his mouth curved into a smile and he shook his head affectionately. "Took you two long enough."


End file.
